pairing: hockeyplayer!mark x reader genre: fluff, angst warnings: some swearing word count: 14.6k synopsis: to most people, mark lee was the golden boy. to you, he was just the dork who tried to eat your red crayon in kindergarten. even though kindergarten was a long time ago, the two of you have never been apart. until one day you both realise that you are heading in completely opposite directions after senior year. mark however, refuses to talk about college, claiming he doesn’t want to think about his life without you in it. but ignoring it isn’t going to make it any less real. →part of the “game, set match” universe
i. the golden boy has a terrible memory
Mark groaned, turning in his spot to march back upstairs once more and grab the textbook that he just remembered he’d left open on his desk. Day one of senior year and he’d already had to go back to his room three times to do various things he’d forgotten. The first time he ran up it was to brush his teeth, the second time was to put his watch on, and now for this damn economics textbook. And out of all subjects it just had to be econ, Mark’s least favourite. If he could he would skip it but, as much as Mark hated econ (the subject made zero sense and his teacher had an unprovoked vendetta against Mark and seemed to take pleasure making his life hell) he needed a good grade in it, otherwise, he faced getting cut from the team.
Mark sighed, slinging his bag over his shoulder one last time, checking around to make sure that he hadn’t forgotten anything, thinking to himself that if he had to come back here a fourth time, he was giving up for the day. He paused briefly in his doorway, grabbing his door and shutting it behind him. He jumped down the stairs, taking them two at a time, and shouted a quick goodbye to his mum before heading out the front door.
And it was only once he had shut the front door that he realised he hadn’t packed his laptop. Senior year hasn’t even officially started yet, and it has already gone wrong one too many times for his brain to handle at 7am on a Monday morning. Mark audibly groaned, leaning forwards to rest his forehead against his door, a soft bang sounding from the moment his head connected with the hard wood.
“Damn, already? You know you’re meant to be like this in exam season right? Not quite on day one.”
Mark visibly perked up at the sound of your voice, a small burst of energy running through him as he turned in his spot to see you smiling up at him, eyebrows raised only slightly judgmentally.
If you’re looking for the personification of the bad boy stereotype, look no further than Lee Donghyuck. His legs were clad in ripped black jeans and on his shoulders always lay his signature black leather jacket. His usually bruised knuckles were adorned with silver rings and the cigarette that hung from his lips all made him look like the typical bad boy out of a cheesy 90s romance film.
As infuriating as the smirk that was constantly plastered on his lips was, and the way he insisted everybody called him ‘Haechan’ instead of Donghyuck, you couldn’t deny that something about him pricked your interest.
Maybe it was something to do with how self assured he was, the confidence he radiated in simply being himself and being in his own skin that made people almost resent him for it. Or maybe it was something to do with how he reminded you of every boy that your mother would warn you about when you were growing up, being told to steer clear of the boys in black, they would be the ones to break your heart. Maybe it was the fact that as soon as anybody new arrives in the area, they’re immediately told to ‘Avoid Haechan, he’s bad news.’ And you weren’t the exception to the rule.
There’s just one problem, you never do what you’re told.
